Word: desks
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...minutes later he is out the door, running eight miles in South Boston. Once back at his brownstone, he eats a plain bagel—no cream cheese—and rushes his three kids off to school. By 7:30 a.m., Captain William B. Evans is at his desk...
Back at District 14 headquarters on 301 Washington St., the door is wide open, letting in sunlight and street noise. An officer behind the front desk urges visitors to sit on a well-worn bench before turning back to her colleagues to discuss an upcoming Red Sox game and a possible trip to Six Flags...
...story follows Ingrid and Mark, two ex-lovers who find themselves reunited—reluctantly, for one of them—through their work. Like the author, Mark works in security at the Fogg, while Ingrid works at the front desk in visitor services. The awkward and uncomfortable dance these two perform around one another as they try to work through their shared past and deal with the present microcosmically captures the post-college, twenty-something lifestyle. Stevens refers to this time, marked by indecision and a reluctance to accept responsibility for one’s actions...
...Tower 1, she heard a booming explosion and felt the building actually lurch to the south, as if it might topple. It had never done that before, even in 1993 when a bomb exploded in the basement, trapping her in an elevator. This time, Zedeo grabbed her desk and held on, lifting her feet off the floor. Then she shouted, "What's happening?" You might expect that her next instinct was to flee. But she had the opposite reaction. "What I really wanted was for someone to scream back, 'Everything is O.K.! Don't worry. It's in your...
...Krinsky gives us students slipping in the mud at the Harvard-Yale tailgate, the hopeless tangle of crushes that enmesh a group of friends, or the occasional high intellectual in-joke: “Les autres, are, after all, hell—unless they are fucking you on your desk,” she says, describing the relationship between a philosophy major undergrad and her Sartre-loving TA. These are moments of sharp observation, even wit. But on the whole the book ends up being as flavorless as the vodka-and-soda Chloe so frequently ingests...